The sunnier of the two herb beds, this has a crimson-purple Tuscany Superb rose at the centre and a small Winter Nellis pear, grown as pollinator for the nearby espaliered Doyenné du Comice. Pears do well in this garden and in spring the blossom is particularly beautiful against the dark ivy that climbs the garden walls. The edge of the bed nearest the path has two large Lemon Verbena bushes, whose lemon-scented leaves I am tempted to crush and inhale every time I walk past. There is also a Peony Rockii, that has yet to flower, some white phlox and a large comfrey bush whose lush leaves and mauve and blue flowers grow as fast as I can harvest them. The leaves make a potent liquid compost. This bed has sweet white rocket too, from the Healing Garden designed by Jinny Blom and HRH Prince of Wales for the 2002 Chelsea Flower Show, and whose white flowers grow up through the crimson Gallica rose in June.
   
Last year saw the three roses in this bed, including the velvety black-red Louis XIV and the egg-yolk gold Graham Thomas doing extraordinarily well. The oregano failed to return and I filled the space with marigolds which always look startling in this garden against the dark green backdrop of yew and ivy. The comfrey is once again full of tiny purple bells.

The Winter Nellis was originally the pollinator for the Doyenne du Comice that is growing on the wall, but is now producing  worthwhile fruit too. There were eight again this year, which were baked with butter and brown sugar. I have left the hips on the Tuscany roses as they don't have a second flowering and provide food for the birds in the depth of winter. The sight of snow on rosehips is heartachingly beautiful. The tarragon did well here last year, and so close to the kitchen that it has become first  port of call when I need something to flavour a chicken. I stuff handfuls of the herbs inside with half a lemon and knob of butter. The pan juices are sharp and gently herbal. There is fennel in this bed too and an endless supply of lemon-scented verbena, currently dry and crisp, its leaves still clinging on despite of the frosts. I dried the majority of leaves from which we now make pots of tea in the afternoons. I find that picking just the top few leaves, in the way that tea is harvested,  produced a constant supply of new green shoots all summer.